The Things We Don't Say
by Hearts A Mess
Summary: Harry has always had a hard time showing his feelings. In fact, it's one of the things Hermione likes least about him. But when the time comes when he actually has something to say, will he be able to finally reveal how he feels?
1. Pull Yourself Together

_Three years. _

That's what it was in reality, but the feeling was still the same. The trio was still a trio, and the wizarding world was healing from large cracks in its psyche; sewn up by the glory and celebrations that followed the downfall of Lord Voldemort and his followers.

But a generation ruled by fear was still trying to shake off the feeling of being afraid for their lives and loved ones. Some had managed to move on before most. Ron Weasley being one of them. It was one dreary February morning that Harry groggily answered his phone, cringing at the loud voice that came over the line:

"_Hello?!_ Hello, Harry- you there? This thing _working_? Well if you are, I just needed to tell you- Luna and I are getting _married!_" The last words were an unbelieving shout from Ron over the phone.

It was a few minutes before Harry could assure Ron that he was indeed there, and that he didn't need to shout over the line.

"Blimey mate, I dunno what I've gotten myself into. It just felt right- and I asked and she said yes and I felt like…"

Harry chuckled over the line and could picture Ron's confused and jubilant expression. "Congratulations Ron, she'll make a man out of you yet."

Ron laughed back, "Can you believe it? Me and Loony!"

In the background Harry could hear someone sing back; "You're family is just as bar-my, Ron."

"Luna says hi!" was Ron's response to Harry. It was awhile before the two friends wrapped up the conversation, and Harry hung up; drifting back off to sleep with a contented smile on his face for his longtime friends.

He had spent the next few weeks with the Weasley's and Luna, his time shuffled in between work and consoling Ron on the upcoming ceremony. He had never seen his best friend so wound up, and his other best friend wasn't doing too well either. Hermione's flat was now being converted into dime-a-dozen townhouses, and she had been given a two month notice to buy a space or relocate.

"And of course it has to happen right when I have to leave for Hungary and meet with the secretary of Welfare for Magical Creatures, not to mention Ron and Luna's wedding!" she cried over a huge mound of suds in Harry's kitchen sink.

He had insisted that he take care of them by magic after the dinner they shared, but Hermione obviously needed a stress reliever. She now dropped the huge salad bowl she was scrubbing, and the soapy water spurted up into her face.

"Damn it!" she said, angrily wiping at her eyes. Harry meanwhile, had gotten over the shock of Hermione swearing, and dropped the dishtowel he was using.

"Hold still," he commanded as she continued to blindly try to swipe at her face. Harry transfigured a plate into a handkerchief and ran it under the tap, holding her chin and gently dabbing her red eyes free of soap. "Hermione, why don't you just stay here? You have a room already."

She blinked her eyes warily in the soft kitchen light when he finished. "You really think you can stand me as a roommate?"

"We lived through it last time, didn't we?" he asked. Harry could see her eyes cloud over at the memory of when she had ended up on Harry's doorstep, red-eyed and sniffling from her last row with Ron and requesting to sleep on his couch. He had immediately steered her to the guest bedroom and sat her down on the bed, conjuring a pot of her favorite tea on the bedside table.

"You know how to call Dobby and my door's just down the hall, alright?" he said. It had seemed like the most awkward state to leave his friend in, but he didn't know exactly how to help her. Harry had opted for the one-armed shoulder hug, and mentally kicked himself at the same time. She didn't need him; she needed a girlfriend's sympathetic ear and a huge glass of fire-whiskey.

But just as these thoughts strayed through Harry's mind, Hermione exploded into a sob and threw her arms around his neck. Now Harry had seen Hermione cry before, but nothing like the rib-shaking sobs that were coming from her already raw throat. He didn't know how to console her, and he was pretty sure he would be horrible at getting her to see the lighter side of it all, if there even was one.

So Harry, the gentleman that he was, held his best friend as she tried her best to purge herself from the grief of her failed relationship with Ron. It was a few minutes before she began to calm down, and Harry adjusted himself on the bed while she sniffled. The rain outside had stopped, and a cold moon shone down through the sheer curtains.

"Thanks Harry, I needed that," she said sleepily from his soaked shoulder.

"Don't mention it."

* * *

Hermione had stayed for a month, hardly leaving a trace of herself in Harry's spacious flat and offering to fix dinner for him almost every night. As she made the transition from the end of her relationship with Ron to a new flat only a few blocks away from Harry's, the two friends grew close again, without ever broaching the subject of her relationship with Ron.

Now Hermione was staring at the suds in the kitchen sink, biting her lip. "I think I can do that."

Harry inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. "Good. It'll be nice to have you around again. Dobby?"

The house elf appeared at their feet, giant eyes sparkling. "Harry Potter sir! How was tonight's dinner?"

"Great as usual, good job on the roast," replied Harry with a wink. "I was hoping you could do us a favor…Hermione needs to move her stuff into the guest bedroom, and anything else can go in the study. Can you help?" But before he could finish the sentence, Dobby had disapparated.

"You didn't have to get him to help you know," chided Hermione.

"Well, as part of our employee agreement Dobby has to actually do work from time to time. He gets bored otherwise. And then he starts making up jobs, and that's even worse."

Moments later when the dishes were dry, Dobby appeared tugging on Harry's trouser leg. "Finished! Mistress Granger's things are in the guest room," he squeaked, while magicking the plates back into the cupboard.

As Hermione settled into her new quarters, Harry couldn't help the happy feeling that he always had with company staying over at his place. The fact that it was Hermione was even better. He hardly got to see his friends enough now as it was.

The months following were a haze of frantic ministry work, trips to view Ron's quidditch games, and bouts of laziness crammed somewhere in between. It did take some getting used to having Hermione around at first; for example, she was always wide awake at six in the morning and would scamper about the kitchen making breakfast before Harry had dragged himself into the shower. One new habit that had developed was Hermione's tenacity for perfecting new spells which she would often perform in his study. But some things never changed as he often shared tea with her after work while she buried her nose in a book in front of the fireplace, occasionally practicing wand movements and muttering arithmancy equations. She would wrinkle her nose in the same fashion while thinking about Luna's taste in the bridesmaid dress she was asked to wear, and never ceased to give her famous hugs after a particularly terrible day within the ministry.

Only after a month in Harry's flat did Hermione have to run off to her business trip, leaving Harry's place feeling quite empty again. Save for Crookshanks, who never failed to remind Harry to feed him at five in the morning. It was the end of September, and the dreary autumn rains were already hitting the outside of his windows. Harry was finished cleaning up from Ron's bachelor party the night before, and sank onto the sofa. He had perfected his non-verbal incantations, and was now currently working on his wandless magic; finding it quite hard to do so unless he verbally said the spell.

"Incendio," muttered Harry, while concentrating on the fireplace. A dull spark lit up one of the logs, but it was too feeble. He sighed as he pulled out his wand, immediately creating a blaze in the hearth. It was awhile that he sat there, sprawled out on his couch while sipping butterbeer, contemplating Ron's upcoming nuptials, and wondering about Hermione's trip.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach again; was he thinking about her too much? It seemed quite a bit more than usual; he had first thought when she went away. But wasn't that natural? He had been living with her and seeing her everyday- had grown so accustomed to her company that he missed it terribly when she left. There were other thoughts as well; old ones that he had always had for her. Her safety, her well-being… He grinned wistfully at the thought of a scowl on her face if she knew he worried about such things.

The night crept on, and Harry found that he must have dozed off on his couch, for he was woken by a surprised; "Yes?"

He blinked his eyes and looked around to find Hermione hanging her coat next to the door. "Yes what?" he asked, still half asleep.

She chuckled as she walked into the room, "You said my name, Harry."

"Hmm. You're back early…how was your trip?" he mumbled as he slung an arm over his eyes. He felt hands come under his shoulders to lift him up, but he wasn't ready to comply. He groaned and sluggishly tried to turn away, only to feel Hermione sink into the couch and ease his shoulders back against her legs.

"It was long… and cold," she said quietly as Harry heard her flip open a book and rest it on the leather arm of the couch. Harry listened to the sounds of the room, feeling content once again that he had Hermione's company again. He heard the soft rustle of the pages; the sound her fingers made as the rubbed across the parchment, Dobby padding in and out of the rooms and setting down tea next to the couch, the purring of Crookshanks somewhere near the hearth.

"I'm glad you're back, Hermione," he mumbled before he let himself sink back into sleep. It didn't register to him that she had not responded; instead she let her gaze travel over her friend of ten years, and the secret thought that she was just as glad as well.

"Hermione…" he mumbled again.

"Shh. Go back to sleep, Harry," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't long before his deep breathing matched the sounds of Crookshanks by the fire.


	2. A Heart Named HJP

The month after Ron and Luna's wedding was December, and Harry was left to look after Pigwidgeon while the couple spent their honeymoon in warmer climates. Harry felt frazzled enough dealing with a kneazle and an owl, but another into the mix was beginning to go too far.

"Pig, for the love of Christ- calm _down!_" Harry cried as he tried to concentrate on his paperwork. The owl still hooted merrily despite the coverlet over the cage.

"Need to check for tranquilizers next time I'm at Eeylops…" he mumbled under his breath.

"You'll do no such thing, Harry!" came a laugh from the doorway. Hermione entered the room with a steaming cup of tea in hand and her cheeks rosy from the cold air outside. Her nose and bits of her hair were wet from melted snowflakes, and she crossed over to Pigwidegon to let him out of the cage.

"He just needs some company, an understanding ear maybe," she said gently as she coached the tiny grey owl onto her shoulder. Pig twittered momentarily, and fluffed his feathers in content as Hermione leaned against Harry's desk.

"Better not let Hedwig see you; she just now started to like you," said Harry while trying to hide a smile.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "Somehow I don't think Hedwig is the type to hold petty grudges. What's it this time?" she asked, gesturing to his papers. "Did Griphook finally find out it was us that destroyed the Lestrange's vault?"

Harry sighed, "No…he'd probably be impressed though. No, this is just traveling stuff; I have to arrange a few portkey's, and their different for every country…unbelievably boring is all. Finish your Christmas shopping already?"

She nodded, "Yup, I need to get packing as well. I figured I'd take the train this year. I miss taking it." Hermione absently petted Pigwidgeon and stared at the snow falling outside.

"Wait- you leave tomorrow?" Harry asked, suddenly snapping himself out of his stare. "I thought-"

Hermione held a finger up to her lips and gestured to the sleeping owl on her shoulder. She returned him to his cage and spoke quietly to Harry, "My aunt is coming to stay with my parents, and they wanted me to be there as a surprise…is that okay?"

"Yeah, I just…" Just what? he thought immediately. Just wanted to spend the holidays with you? That's pretty selfish Potter, said a voice eerily like his late potion master. Harry was rooted to his chair and was very aware that Hermione was looking at him curiously.

Desperate to break the silence, Hermione set down her tea and said in a small voice, "Will you see me off tomorrow?"

"Of course, Hermione," he replied in the same small voice. It suddenly occurred to him that their quiet conversation now no longer had any reason to keep Pig from waking up. It was the mere notion that they were quiet…for the fear of missing what the other might say.

Hermione gave him a small smile and then stood; brushing her hand over the top of his head in a gesture that she had done once so many years ago. Harry was happy to find that it still had the same affect on him, and he relaxed into his chair as he heard her moving about in her room, packing for the trip the next day.

Getting to King's Cross was a task however, as the snow from the night before nearly shut down the traffic in the city. Harry and Hermione had decided to ditch the surprisingly late Knight Bus for apparition, and they arrived in a back alleyway, just a block away from the station. The two trudged through the snow, and Hermione unconsciously took Harry's hand as they stepped over black ice on the walkways.

The two were strangely quiet, which only seemed to be amplified by the fact that no other people were about at six in the morning. Harry was dealing with the tightening feeling in his chest that had afflicted him since last night. It certainly didn't help that Hermione was leading him through with a warm hand, or the fact that he noticed how much brighter her eyes became in contrast to the snow. It was a feeling that he didn't even know if it was right to acknowledge. But there it was, settling itself around his heart, and now Hermione was leaving.

"Don't let Crookshanks get the best of you," she said as they entered the main hall of the station, "You'll need to clip is claws once a week if you don't want holes in that couch. And Neville mentioned that you only need to feed the Flutterby bush-"

"Hermione," he said with an amused look. "I'll manage." Unfortunately, the last bit came out horribly unconvincing.

They stopped next to the train, and Hermione set down her possessions. Harry felt as if he were trying to perform some smaller form of legillimency as he stared at her; she was busying herself by fixing her scarf, but he knew that she was stalling for time. She sighed and looked up at him, "Is there something you want to tell me, Harry?"

Seconds ticked by as he stared at her. Did she know? Would she even want to hear it? Hermione didn't break eye contact, and Harry didn't want to let her down, especially with the wrong idea. He swallowed thickly, "Y-yes… but now isn't the best time."

Hermione's features softened, and she gave little thought to the need of hugging him with all of her strength. "A letter Harry, put it in a letter," she said quietly as she released him from her gripping hug and kissed his cheek.

Once again, he was trapped in a feeling that was not unlike a petrifying jinx. Harry could only watch through wide eyes as she grabbed up her tiny suitcase, adjust her wool cap and clamor towards the train. Only when he realized that she was about to disappear from sight were his muscles able to move again. Maybe now was the perfect time and was letting it go by-

_"Hermione!"_

She immediately popped her head out from one of the nearby windows and gave him a grin. The whistle of the train blasted and knocked out any words that were about to come out of his mouth.

"I'll tell Mum and Dad hello for you!" she called back and waved. Hermione tucked herself back into the compartment as the train picked up speed, and Harry suddenly found himself feeling quite lonely in the huge crowd of King's Cross.

* * *

The days following were merry with snow and Weasley family company. Hermione had been gone for five days so far, and Harry had shirked away from any form of parchment that was in his flat. He had found himself unconsciously looking down the hallway back towards the guest room that she usually stayed at, and even missed the smell of her tea that she brewed to relax after work. His ears would imagine the sound of her turning a page in the study, and he would stop abruptly before going around a corner, instinctively bracing himself for impact as Hermione usually hurried around in the morning before heading off to the Ministry.

Harry had visited the Burrow on the afternoon of the third day, unable to trust himself in keeping busy. He only realized too late that Molly would never allow him to work in her own house, and Harry found he had more than enough time on his hands, even with Ron badgering him every twenty minutes for a pickup game of Quidditch or chess.

Three days, Harry thought morosely. I have to do something. He thudded his head against the counter he was sitting at, a cold cup of tea forgotten next to him. That was how Ron had found him minutes later.

"Woah, mate. You feeling alright?" asked Ron. He puffed a lock of hair out of his eyes and bypassed the dishes in the sink that Mrs. Weasley asked him to do the night before.

"Not really," came Harry's muffled reply.

"Have anything to do with Hermione?" asked Ron thoughtfully as he sat down across from Harry.

Harry's forehead shot up from the table and peered at Ron; the wood indentations making his forehead appear much older as he furrowed his brow at him. "Ugh. Am I that obvious?"

Ron picked his teeth and looked his friend over, "Not really. I've just only noticed it yesterday. Whenever Mum mentions Hermione or her work, you tense and end up staring out the window for hours."

Harry mulled over Hermione's words as he imagined that he could see the steam from the train in the distance:

_A letter, put it in a letter._

But why on earth a letter? How impersonal! And especially with all of the emotions that he was feeling; that he needed to tell Hermione before the boiling point was reached. Before she found out in some un-intended way, or that an obstacle came up…

Harry figured it amazing that she hadn't taken up with other wizards in the dating world. She was a scholar, an author, and a prominent figure in the Ministry on the controversial implementation of elfish welfare regulations. He had also seen quite a few suitors waiting around in the Ministry atrium for the end of her shift. It was that when he knew he was feeling something different…

* * *

_One year prior…_

It was noon in the Ministry, and Harry was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel with international talks concerning goblin trade. He had accepted an apprenticeship with Bill at Gringotts, and his respect within the business skyrocketed. Soon, only the investors with the Ministry wished to work with Harry Potter, which was satisfactory for the goblins as it kept a profitable barrier between the clients and the bankroll.

Harry had been abroad for two weeks, being fed lavish food and praises that were beginning to be uncomfortably sick to his stomach. It paid off in the end however; Harry was able to garner a new investor to Hermione's department, who was quite keen on the newest developments on elfish promotion. He knew he would have his ear chewed off by Griphook, the head accountant, over the low interest that Harry had promised the client. He figured it was worth it; to Hermione's campaign and the look on her face when she found out. He couldn't wait to get back to tell Hermione the news, as well as reveling in her good company.

He had sent Hedwig that morning with the news, and was now waiting with baited breath as the lift doors began to discharge more and more employees. The lobby began to crowd and soon Harry began to wonder if he could find Hermione in such a place, until his eye was caught by a group of men wearing Auror cloaks and unnaturally slicked-back hair.

"'Mione! There you are! I wanted to introduce you to Austin, remember?" came a charming voice that carried, and obviously thrived for attention.

Harry cringed at the nickname, and tried to peer over the cluster of heads as he saw Hermione's wild mane of hair. One of them must have cracked a joke, as they began laughing and jostling each other, and Harry caught a glimpse of Hermione juggling her bags and rolling her eyes.

In spite of the situation, Harry grinned. Hermione could handle a pack of greenhorn Aurors single-handedly, if not wandlessly.

"Was that before or after you were recounting your single-handed and daring apprehension of Demetrious Darrow?" came her steady voice from behind the men.

"Oi! Single-handed?!" crowed a few of the Aurors. "So it was you that pulled Darrow off of yourself once he got the better of your piss-poor incarcerous jinx?!" A squabble of insults and pointing fingers broke out within the group and Hermione neatly stepped around them with a satisfied smirk on her face.

She was only a few steps away when she finally noticed him; "Harry!"

Years of practice prepared Harry for the lunging hugs that Hermione was famous for, and it was with a welcoming smile that he easily scooped her up. Her bags banged painfully into his side, but the feeling was immediately washed out by the warmth that spread through him. Hermione's hugs held a great deal of emotion in them; excitement, worry, protectiveness, and as Harry was starting to feel the past few years; love. It was a wonderful feeling for him to realize that he understood her hugs, and everything in them. They had become enjoyable with time, and there were quite a few days when he realized he craved one. He supposed that this was the real reason why he had done this for her.

Hermione pulled back from his shoulder and stood close; positively glowing despite the distance between them. "I got your message! Did you really? Augustine Fellows is going to fund the entire elvish enrichment campaign?! I couldn't believe it! I was going to write and tell you but Hedwig took off and I had to finish up my report before 2 pm and… what?"

Harry's smile had grown bigger and bigger until he was chuckling at her excited tirade. The crowd in the atrium was starting to thicken and more than a few people were staring at the famous witch and wizard, not to mention the glowering Aurors who had finally ended their argument. Neither Harry nor Hermione saw the pointing fingers cast in their direction.

"You," he said simply. "I missed you. Missed this." Something had broken in his eyes though, and for a moment Harry felt that he had said too much.

"I'm glad your back, Harry," Hermione said with a wonderful laugh and a bright smile lit up her features. "Let's get something to drink; you can tell me all about the trip."

She broke away and took his hand, pulling him through a throng of reporters to a designated disapparition room. They had wiled away the evening at the Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeers and predicting the success of Hermione's department with the new funding.

* * *

"Well, you're better than me mate. Took me forever to realize that I was in love with Luna. I hope you figure it out, because I don't really care for this new you. It's all brooding and such." Ron gave his friend a cheeky grin and went about cleaning the dishes and picking up after the evening's meal. Harry contemplated his memories of his best friend while watching Ron charm the cutlery into a drawer, and did indeed see the connection. The only problem seemed to be that he was terrified of telling her anything.

It was hard slipping out of the Burrow that night, but Harry needed to return to his flat to think. He was surprised to see Crookshanks eagerly awaiting him in the study, and even more so when he watched the enormous cat flounce over to the Christmas tree where a large package was waiting.

"Oh 'Shanks, you didn't have to," he said to the cat absently. Harry walked over to the tree that he had picked out with Hermione, and brushed away some dry needles from the top of the box. A letter was attached:

_Harry,_

_Sorry, but I couldn't wait! I wanted you to have this for the season, since it's only going to get colder. Dobby helped me with the sewing; he said I should put it on the sleeve, but I told him you kept it closer._

_Happy Christmas_

_Hermione_

Harry was momentarily confused, but when he tore the wrapping he saw a thick woolen pea coat. It was black in color, and he could tell by the buttons that it was standard navy issue. He put it on immediately. Turning to Crookshanks who was sitting on the couch, Harry tugged on the sleeves. "What do you think?"

The half-kneazle blinked slowly and began to wash his paws, looking wholly uninterested.

Harry rolled his eyes and adjusted the front flaps of the coat. It was then he noticed a red patch; the size of a galleon and the shape of a heart on the inner lapel. Even though it was stitched, he could recognize Hermione's handwriting: _HJP_

He stood quite still for a moment as he looked at the patch. The Christmas tree twinkled merrily in the dark flat as Crookshanks purred on the couch.

His thought's of Hermione started to kick in again...she had sensed he was going to tell her something important, emotionally important…and she knew him better than anyone else. She knew Harry was pants with speaking out his feelings, and what else was better than writing down everything? The only part he really had to overcome was sending it to her. He gave a grim smile at her logic.

_It's not that easy though, Hermione. But for you I'll try._

Harry sat down at his desk and pulled out a bit of parchment; but this time he wasn't keeping his heart close to him. His heart poured through his arm in the form of ink, and it was terrifying.


	3. Ask Me

Hermione was finally finished with her Christmas shopping, and had just dropped off her packages at her parents' house. It was still quite early, and she was to meet them for dinner later at Aunt Celia's hotel. As predicted, Celia had jumped out of her skin in excitement when Hermione met her at the Heathrow Airport after not seeing her niece for nearly five years. Hermione's days since then had been a whirlwind of family and errands before the upcoming holiday, but today afforded her the time to look back at her goodbye with Harry at King's Cross.

She now locked up her family's house and set off down the street towards the town square, not much more than a mile away. Hermione enjoyed the long walk and the clean smell of the snow. It gave her time to reflect about something that was tugging at her heart.

Despite her busy week, Hermione looked back at the end of every day, wishing to see Hedwig perched on the back of her father's chair in the den. But days had past, and she was beginning to lose faith in her decision of asking Harry to put whatever he was feeling in a letter.

For the first time, she found herself nervous around her best friend. It annoyed her to no end the affect Harry had on her, and how she had no control over it. She had screamed into her pillow the night that she had come over to Harry's after her breakup with Ron, but where else was she to go? A secret part of her knew that Harry would understand, but she had felt so weak that night in front of him.

She looked back over her decision; where did it go wrong? Wasn't it a decent idea? Harry could be just as clueless as Ron when it came to feelings…wait- what if there were no feelings between him and herself? Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

It's possible, she thought. Hermione blinked back a few tears as she crossed over a bridge and could see the main square ahead. Hopefully she hadn't completely ruined her friendship with Harry…

But then Hermione remembered the look on his face as the train sped away from King's Cross. The look was no less heartbreaking in her memory than when she first saw it. So much that she gave a watery smile; it saddened her that she could do that to him, but it also gave her some hope for the future. If he didn't have the courage to tell her, then she certainly would be able to tell him. Just…not today.

Hermione sighed as she came up to the crosswalk and paused for a second, thinking she heard her name drowned with the honking of horns and the jubilant laughter of early shoppers. She spied her favorite bakery across the street, and crossed to the main park as a shortcut. She didn't hear the crunching footfalls of snow until Harry suddenly rounded the giant twinkling tree in the center of the park.

"Hi," he said breathlessly.

The first moment in days when she was actually able to think about her best friend, Hermione almost thought of him being a figment of her imagination standing there in the falling snow, looking like he had just run a mile.

The last mile that she had walked? Oh dear…he had ran after her. Considering that she was a witch, Hermione didn't have much faith in magical moments. This however…wasn't going to be ignored. For a moment, Hermione was dumbstruck. "Harry?"

The two stared at each other for a moment, until Harry sheepishly reached into the side pocket of the coat she had gotten for him. With a blush that crept up to her cheeks, she saw that it suited him quite well. He pulled out a letter and half presented it to her, but pulled back at the last second.

"I, um…took your advice. I put my thoughts in a letter, and I was about to send it when…I realized it didn't make much sense to." Harry looked back up at her, and then took a tentative step forward.

"I was reading it over," he said in a low voice, "And it occurred to me that the words really don't say as much as I wanted them to." Harry stuffed the letter back in his pocket.

"I was eating breakfast the other day with Ron, you know, um- talking quidditch and such. And I looked over and was just expecting your 'Oh honestly, I don't understand the appeal of a Wonky Faint.' But then you weren't there…I guess it's normal to imagine you there after all of the years we've spent together, but then the feeling kept coming back... Constantly."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together, but didn't say anything for fear of not letting Harry finish. Harry took another step closer, nervously brushing the snow from his hands. "I didn't expect to feel like this when you left- the first time, I thought I just missed having my friend. But then I had a dream… back when we were in the Department of Mysteries…It was the dream where you didn't get back up."

Hermione watched with wide eyes as Harry visibly went pale and his voice cracked faintly. "I woke up practically yelling- I was running through the flat trying to find you, and when I didn't I nearly cracked, I thought you were actually dead. I nearly apparated to your Mum and Dad's house in my pajamas just to make sure you were alright."

"Harry…" Hermione whispered, and took his hand.

He swallowed visibly, and then took a steadying breath, "My um, point is… that I trust you to be there, and I think that's what's been scaring me. You were always there Hermione, and when you weren't- I guess my mind just went into this tailspin that you weren't going to come back."

Now, emotions weren't Hermione's strong suit, but she was finding it hard to keep her tears in check. She did the only thing she knew how, and launched herself at Harry, wrapping him in the most comforting hug she could offer. Harry wrapped his arms around her in return, sighing and burying his face into her neck and the curly mess of her hair.

He continued quietly as he heard her sniffling, "You know I'm sorry for pretty much everything, Hermione. You should never have had to endure what it takes to be my friend; it's caused you nothing but pain. But in spite of that, I'm going to be selfish now and say… I'm glad that you did because I really can't imagine life without you now."

Hermione's voice was muffled, but her warm breath was not lost on his neck. "I don't know why you thought I would ever leave you," she said with a sniffling laugh. "But for some reason I wasn't worried, I knew you would let me know someday."

"Of course you knew," Harry conjured up some of his Gryffindor bravery and pulled away from her slightly. He gave her a mischievous grin; pulling open the flap of his jacket. "You made my heart what it is," he said, as if the answer was obvious. Hermione didn't have to study the detail of the heart; she had already spent painstaking hours getting the stitching just right.

Hermione felt a laugh bubble from her throat and she smiled up at Harry, wiping her eyes away with the backing of her gloves.

Harry's eyes had never left her face, and now caught Hermione with their intense gaze. His head dipped down slowly, only pausing a moment before Hermione's upturned face. "Is this alright?" Harry whispered.

"Of course it is. That's what I've been wanting you to ask me," she replied just as quietly.

The two both smiled knowingly, and the last distance between them was closed in a soft kiss. Like Hermione's hugs, Harry found that everything else about the kiss were similar in emotion, if not better. And just as before; wonderful warmth filled his body, and the two forgot everything about the outside world, quite content to enjoy the connection that had taken years to put together. The thought made him possessively pull Hermione closer; loving the fact that she was finally close once again. The kiss slowed, and the two were finally tugged back to the present; opening their eyes and reveling in each other's smiles that were flecked with the falling snow.

"You have a date for lunch?" Harry said with an exaggerated deep voice that made Hermione chuckle.

She couldn't resist the smile the curled over her lips, "I do now, do you know of a place?"

Harry shrugged, "No, but some really good smells are coming from that bakery," he gestured to Hermione's favorite haunt. She smiled and nodded, and in a slow and now natural movement, she wound her arm around his waist as Harry draped a hand over her mass of curls and onto her shoulders.

The thick, falling snow enveloped the two as they set off through the trees, and a gentle world of white was finally all that was left to see.

* * *

_What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us._

_~ Ralph Waldo Emerson_


End file.
